


Guard of the Eastern Gate

by anglophileprussian



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A Z Fell & Co, Based on a Tumblr Post, Gen, Implied Relationship, References to Islamophibia, and Thomas from the seminary, aziraphale loves students, blatant wish fulfillment, classics students, outside pov, reference to homophobia, students love aziraphale & crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 16:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anglophileprussian/pseuds/anglophileprussian
Summary: If you were to ask Aziraphale he would say that it's completely reasonable to love people who want to study and discuss books. And that feeling he gets when they come and ask him for help isn't Pride no. It just so happens that having lived for millennia means he's the best primary source on the planet. It would be selfish to not share his knowledge if you think about it.If you were to ask Crowley he would say that it may have more to do with the fact that that grad students can't afford to buy any of the books.[inspired by/based on a tumblr post by dragtimdrake]





	Guard of the Eastern Gate

**Author's Note:**

> Some people asked for a fic to go with my post on tumblr about [Aziraphale & Crowley taking care of grad students at the bookshop.](https://bit.ly/2KMmIeG) This is pure fluff with no substance and only implies a relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley; it's really just about students hanging out in Aziraphale's bookstore 
> 
> Warning: this fic references an incident where someone's headscarf was ripped off, and hints at/implies at past transphobic/homophobic towards a character. This fic is absurdly fluffy and pure wish fulfillment so the acts mentioned/implied are not depicted and act as vehicles to Aziraphale&Crowley helping the students. But if reading about them in any way makes you uncomfortable, feel free to find different fic. I wrote this as wish fulfillment for former/current students and would hate for it to make anyone unhappy. 
> 
> See end notes for more about the implied islamophobia

Tucked between English Romantic poets and Russian 20th century literature, underneath the stairs that didn't really exist, 6 graduate students set up camp. 

Blaise, who was not a Slytherin, usually arrived first. She worked at a perfume shop a few blocks away and would come into the bookstore reeking of perfume. Tiana always told her that it could be worse: she had worked at a kebab place for 3 years and she swears her clothes still smell like gyro meat. 

So Blaise was charged with buying pastries for Mr. Fell from the bakery down the street. The six of them split the cost among themselves, taking into consideration each of their financial situations at the time. This meant that, more often than not, Cedric paid for the pastries. 

Cedric, who once had a different name but has recently corrected it, met up with Blaise just before they crossed the street to AZ Fell & Co. The two of them, always the first students to arrive, walked in together. Dead on her feet from assisting rude old women all morning, Blaise went into the stacks to lie down. Cedric waited for Mr. Fell to emerge. 

Wiping his hands on an actual handkerchief (monogrammed - a boy named Thomas from one of the seminary schools had checked) Mr. Fell came out from his office, brightening when he saw who it was. 

"Cedric my dear boy, how are you?- oh, is that what I think it is?"

"Fresh baked madelines."

Mr. Fell took the bag then opened it, stuck his face in, and breathed in deeply. "They smell wonderful. You do spoil me." No matter how many times you are exposed, Mr. Fell's dimpled smile will make anyone blush. Cedric was a blusher anyways and turned scarlet, as always.

Mr. Fell continued talking as he went to sit at his desk. "Speaking of smells, was that Ms. Blaise you came in with? I found the translation we were looking for - it was under the kettle for some reason, can't imagine why..." He picked up a stack of books, frowned, and put them down. After repeating this several more times he looked up at Cedric again and admitted, "I seem to have misplaced it again. I'll bring it over as soon as I find it again."

The special spot that Blaise, Cedric, Tiana, Mikael, Fatima, and Clara claimed as their own was hard to find: the shelves weren't in straight rows and from the front of the store, you couldn't see the staircase at all. It was only after their first semester at the store that Cedric could reliably find it, and even then it took several days camped in the floor there, exhausted and hysterical as exams approached, that he really got the hang of it. 

No one remembers who first found it. Fatima has been coming to AZ Fell & Co the longest and when she tells the story about the day she found the bookstore it goes like this: her first year of University she went into AZ Fell & Co at 11PM because it was the only store she could find whose door was still open. She had run all the way from the Tube stop, sobbing with her jacket pulled over her head: some drunk asshole on the platform had pulled off her headscarf and told her to "go back to where you came from". Fatima will pause her narrative to point out that , if he'd asked her, she would have told him that she was born in Manchester, but that hardly matters when you're a drunk bigot. He just decided she was foreign and ripped the scarf off of her head. So instead of going back to her dorm as planned, she fled before his equally drunk friends could join in. That is what lead her to AZ Fell & Co. 

The instant the door slammed behind her, someone was right in front of her, scowling and demanding, "How did you get in here? Can't you see it's closed?"

This tall man in his expensive black clothes and sunglasses was terrifying enough that she almost ran right out the door. She might have if she hadn't seen his scowl drop; she couldn't see his eyes but she knew he was looking at the jean jacket wrapped around her head. 

"Th- the door was unlocked. I promise." She sniffed, her heart pounding like she'd been running for hours, not the five minutes it had taken her to get here. 

"Of course it was," he said, somehow sounding sincere and sarcastic at the same time. He reached out with one hand but stopped right before he touched her. "Are you injured?"

His hand did not come any closer - he was waiting to hear what she said. Her chest burned and she fumbled for her purse, dumping half the contents on the floor in the process.

"I'm so sorry, I cant-" she tried to take a big gulp of air but her lungs did not cooperate. A cool, steady hand grabbed hers, pressing something into her palm. Her inhaler. 

"Use this, then you can tell me what happened." 

Then the tall, well-dressed man knelt on the floor and started putting everything back in her purse. After her first dose she was about to get down and do the rest but, as if he could read her thoughts, he looked up at her and shook his head 'no'. So she watched him put her wallet, sun glasses case, and tampons back, zipping it all up then standing, holding it out to her. 

"Let's try again shall we? Are you hurt?" She shook her head. "Ok. Why are you holding your jacket over your head?"

"They took my headscarf." 

"What? No-" he interrupted her before she could try to explain, "Just give me one second. Angel!" He held up one finger to say, 'hold that thought' and called out again. "Angel! Could you bring a blanket and a cup of cocoa to the front please."

Moments later she could hear footsteps from someone in another room getting closer. The Someone began to speak in a crisp, posh accent. "I was beginning to wonder why it was taking you so long to tell someone we're closed. I take it something has happened then?" 

The lights turned on and suddenly she could see past the man in front of her. Emerging from behind some shelves was another man holding a tea cup and saucer. Only later would she learn who this man was. In this moment he was just a strange man offering her a cup of hot cocoa. 

The tall, dark man turned to the "Angel" and said, "Take her. I'll be right back"

A few minutes later he finds the two of them in a back room on a sofa by the fire. Mr. Fell, after introducing himself, had done a remarkable job distracting her with questions about school and her family. He stops when the other man returns, dropping a paper bag in her lap without comment before dropping himself into the chair across from them.

"I hope you don't have any allergies - gluten, dairy and all that," he said as she opened the bag. Inside was a smaller bag full of warm scones and a dark green silk scarf. "It's chocolate chip." 

Both men looked away when she switched from her jacket to the silk scarf. Satisfied that enough time had passed, Mr. Fell turned to look at her again and smiled brightly. "That's much better. And if I may say, that green looks lovely on you." 

He sounded so sincere that she blushed. "Thank you. I mean, really - thank you." 

"Don't mention it" the other man said without looking her way. "I mean really, don't mention it."

So Fatima did not mention it... to him. She did mention it to every new student who visits the bookshop, her classmates, two of the cashiers at the bakery, and her mother. Cedric started to come with her about a year ago and from there the group grew naturally. Blaise and Tiana had been using the same spot on the days they weren't there: when the two pairs came at the same time on the same Saturday it probably should have turned into a fight, but the four students decided that they could just share the space. Sure, it seemed like a tight fit the first day but the next day the little nook under the stairs felt bigger somehow. Eventually, there were six bodies comfortably arranged in that same space. Such was the magic of Mr. Fell's bookshop.

Blaise was half asleep in one corner of the nook when Cedric found her, Plautus cracked open and resting on her face to block the light. Muffled slightly, she said, "I thought you got lost or something."

"Mr. Fell found that book you wanted but he lost it again. Said he'll bring it over when he finds it."

"Brilliant. What an angel."

Cedric, sat against the back wall, swatted at her. "Don't say that, what if he hears you?"

"What, you think Crowley is hiding back here somewhere?" Blaise pushed the book down her face to look at him, communicating her disbelief with her eyes and eyebrows. "He hidden in the box with the mugs or something?"

Cedric didnt bother to respond; he took out a mug from the aforementioned box for himself. Seeing he wasn't going to do it, Blaise sighed dramatically and crawled across the floor to get one for herself. 

"I'm gonna get a snack actually, before I start. Want anything?" Cedric asked, standing up again. He knew from experience how annoying it would be to move his books around to go for food later. "I think I saw yogurt." 

"Yes please. Some blueberries if they're there."

"Cool. Make sure he doesn't forget my cocoa." 

Cedric disappeared back into the stacks. She could hear the bell ring as someone opened the door, closing it loudly behind them. There were voices - there always were voices as people came and left the shop - but if you didn't focus on them, they turned into a dull roar like a white noise machine. With one last scowl at her book, she sat up against her favorite pillow and went back to Plautus.

Some time later she heard footsteps. Just as she sat upright again, Mr. Fell rounded the corner with his pot of cocoa. 

"Ms. Blaise, you look very comfortable," he said cheerily, as always. "Is Plautus still giving you trouble?" 

"It never ends," she said dramatically. 

Mr. Fell listened as she launched into a rant about archetypes and the various reasons English was superior to Latin because it had abandoned declensions. He poured cocoa for the both of them and made noises of agreement when appropriate, busying himself with tidying the shelves until she finished. 

"Well I'm afraid I can't help you with any of that," he said. It was his response to any students complaints about their studies. "But I did find the other book you were looking for. Hopefully it can help you." 

He pulled the book from his inner jacket pocket and Blaise grabbed it greedily, grinning at the cover.

"Thank you so much - this is perfect." 

"If you need any help with the translation feel free to ask. Though if I'm being honest, Crowley would be of more help. He has more experience with Roman theater and poetics than I do: I was too busy to go to the theater every day like he did." 

Cedric reappeared behind Mr. Fell just before Blaise could ask what theater Crowley was going to where the performances were still in Latin. He had a plate of biscuits and grapes in one hand, and a bowl of blueberries with a cup of yogurt in it in the other. Blaise abandoned her book in favor of a much needed snack.

He settled down on the floor again with a polite, "Hello Mr. Fell."

"Hello again Cedric. Oh, I forgot to ask earlier, how are things going with your new roommate? Well, I hope?"

"Marty is great. Her boyfriend Pat has been telling me about his hormone treatment and all that so it's really nice."

"Excellent. That's exactly what we were hoping for. Well, Crowley is the one who knows Ms. Marty actually, but as soon as I met her I knew she would be a good fit." 

"Mr. Crowley was just telling me about it actually: I didn't know he'd hit her with his car." 

"Yes well, he tends to do that sometimes...Crowley is here, you said?" Mr. Fell looked back towards the door, craning his neck as if he could see up and over the shelves. 

"He just got here. When I left he was talking to an old man looking for a Marlowe folio." 

"Oh dear, he's going to scare them off again. If you'll excuse me."

Mr. Fell hurried away to rescue the potential customer from his husband. It was only out of kindness that the two students waited until he was out of sight before bursting into laughter.

"Is someone really trying to buy a first for edition?" Blaise asked. "That poor idiot - was Crowley doing his staring thing?"

His "staring thing" as Blaise called it, was when he just stared at a customer while he telling them to essentially fuck off. Somehow, the fact that he was wearing sunglasses while he did it made it exponentially more terrifying. 

"He always does. Poor Tiana: she had just arrived and she was clearly trying to decide if she should cut in or just wait."

"Why should she help the old guy? Its his fault he wants to buy one of Mr. Fell's books."

"Oh, she didn't want to help him. She needs Mr. Crowley's help with some old handwriting."

That set the two of them into peels of laughter again. And when Tiana arrived a few moments later, the poor girl had no idea why they starting laughing when they saw her.

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note about Fatima: I am not someone who wears a headscarf for any reason, religious or otherwise, so I didn't try to explain why Fatima wears one. I don't have the knowledge or experience to talk about it in a religious context so I decided to just not say why - so if her reaction doesn't match what you're expecting, that's why. I did tag it as islamophobia bc the person who harassed her assumed she was Muslim and that's why he acted that way.


End file.
